


Recruit

by Notasmuch



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on my wish for Bob to be the drummer for Patrick's solo tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recruit

"Do you want a puppy?"

"No I don't want a," Patrick paused and looked around the dog shelter Bob worked in. "Well, I do want a puppy, but I can't have one now."

"So what then?"

"I want you."

Bob looked up from the dog food he was mixing up and Patrick blushed.

"In a band. With me. Touring."

"I have a job now. You want me to quit it, go away with you for a while, then come back and keep on working like nothing happened? I love my boss but even he's not that nice."

"I'd pay you."

"Of course you'd pay me. My days of doing shit for free are over."

Patrick bit his lip at the bitterness in Bob's voice. "I know."

He waited for a while but Bob just kept working. "I need you."

Bob snorted. "No, you don't."

Okay, true, but he could at least pretend to be swayed. "Look, anything. Okay? Anything you want, I'll find a way to make it happen."

"Why me?"

"Do you want me to get Pete to write you a song about your awesomeness?"

Patrick was sure he saw Bob blushing, even under all the beard. Payback.

"I don't want to do it," his words were cut off, like he was trying to persuade someone. Himself, Patrick hoped.

"You're being stupid."

Bob's jaw clenched before he turned to take two big bowls from a shelf behind him. "I'm happy here."

"Bullshit. You're content here."

Bob turned back and slammed the bowls on the counter between them, then took a big breath to calm himself. "Don't fucking tell me how I feel."

Patrick didn't want him calm. "No, I get it, animals are great, I love them, but Bob, fuck, you're a drummer."

"I'm a fuc..." He stopped talking and started filling the bowls with the mixed food.

Patrick wondered how that sentence was supposed to end but knowing Bob, it was something derisive. And Patrick didn't want to have to punch him before he even got a yes.

Well, not physically anyway. "Are you afraid? Is that it? Because I'm not a friend you can lose, you should know that."

Instead of being provoked, Bob just smiled. Patrick always hated that about him. "I could put you in my pocket and forget to take you out before I do the laundry."

"Funny."

"It's cute, how you're trying to push me. Like I never met you before."

Patrick sighed and leaned on the counter, trying to give Bob a soulful look. "Bob."

"Patrick." He put the bowls on the floor and grabbed a set of keys from the counter.

"Just listen to the songs, give it a shot."

Bob disappeared outside for a moment and came back dragging two Great Danes after him. Patrick got distracted for a few minutes trying to pet them and not get eaten before they noticed the bowls and started ignoring him.

"Well?" he turned back to Bob.

"I'm sure your music is great, it always is, but that's not the point. You're still ignoring the main problem. I work here, I can't just come and go when I feel like it."

"You can tour with other people, you can tour manage..."

Bob cut him off. "Until you need me again and then I'll quit that too and go tour with you for a few months."

Patrick felt his jaw drop a little. "Of course not! If you were busy I wouldn't drag you away..."

"Oh, so it's just this job that's not important enough to keep?"

After ten years of being around Pete and doing stupid fucking interviews, Patrick was used to being interrupted. He just never really learned to shut up when he had to.

"Any job that isn't the one you want to be doing isn't important enough!"

Bob leaned in over the counter and looked Patrick in the eyes. "Fuck. You." He was pissed.

Patrick swallowed. He refused to step back, but he did lower his voice. Angry Bob was not a careful Bob. "You know what I mean. You did it all your life, every time you walked away from a sure thing to take a chance."

"That's so deep. And complete shit. I did what I had to..."

"You did what you had to do to get to where you wanted. This," Patrick waved a hand around the shelter, "will get you nowhere."

"This is important. And you're an asshole."

"It is. It's important, and we can make a whole tour about this if you want, I'll talk about this place in every interview and we'll sell shirts with their name, just please, come with me." Patrick hated that he sounded like he was begging. Mostly because that's exactly what he was doing.

"Why me, Patrick?"

"You're an amazing drummer. You've been there before. I trust you." _I know you,_ he didn't say, but Bob knew him too long and too well to not get it.

"I'm familiar. And this is the first tour you'll be doing without your safety net."

"It's not like that."

Bob just smirked.

"Shut up."

"Patrick, you're a fucking genius. If anything, they should be worried to be out there with you."

Patrick felt his bubble of anger and panic burst. "I'm sorry I said this didn't matter."

"I know."

"Because it does. And it matters that you're happy."

"Don't," Bob shook his head and gave one of the dogs a pat.

"What?"

"You know what. Don't be nice just so I'll change my mind."

"Would I do that?" They both knew he would, so he just shrugged when Bob looked at him. "I would, yeah. But that's not it. I know that you like this. But I think you would love the tour."

He saw something in Bob melt at the sound of logic, it always did. Patrick never tried too hard to figure out how or why he knew so much about Bob. It was easier not to.

He had to poke a bit more. "I never asked..."

"And you won't," Bob was certain.

"You know I wouldn't. But I've known you for a long time, and you were never as happy as when you were playing."

"So this is all about me?" Bob's voice was dry but he was smiling just enough for Patrick to notice.

"Yeah, well, you know your happiness comes first to me."

They both laughed but Patrick felt his heart clench quickly. He reached out to give one of the dogs a nervous pat.

And then Bob, because he always had more balls when it came to things like that, said, "What about us?"

It was a really stupid moment to think about four years ago, living together and the sound of t.A.T.u. blasting from Bob's room. He wanted to not smile at the memory. The first time he barged into Bob's room without knocking, just waving a hand at the speakers, Bob's defeated "I like them" and how much better they sounded when Bob's lips were on his.

"What would you..."

But Bob rolled his eyes and leaned into the counter, his face much closer to Patrick's now. "I asked first."

Sadly, Patrick wasn't equipped to deal with things like that. Talking about his feelings didn't come easily to him. But he could probably write Bob a song or something. He was sure Bob would get the message. It would need a lot of drums, of course, and a good bass line, and he should talk to Pete about lyrics because...

"Christ, Patrick," Bob sighed and dragged him in closer until their lips met.

It was impatient and sudden, but Patrick let himself relax into it until it was just perfect. Like always with Bob's hair under his fingers and the wet little sound their lips made when kissing. He loved it; a kiss with no one else produced quite that sound.

When they broke apart Bob's forehead pressed into his and his beard tickled Patrick's face.

"Is that a yes?" Patrick had to know.

Bob laughed. "Maybe."

"What if I bribed you with sex?"

"I think you should try."


End file.
